It
by Cheeky-eyes
Summary: When the village of Kul Elna was slaughtered It had taken over him. Now all he could do was watch as It used him. Short insights on what the real Bakura was thinking during various points of the series. The Bakura who died that fateful night.


There were no survivors that night

Hello all. It is another oneshot for Compy's pairing challenge. The pairing, clashshipping. I swear there is some in here. I had to add it. So you may wonder what Bakura has to do with it as the focus is on the spirit of the eight-year-old thief watching over the events of present day. 

Well read on and you shall see. And this is a side fic to my other one shot 'No survivors' but you don't have to read it first. It would just make me happy if you did.

Without further ado, I now present you 

**It.**

**xxx**

_There were no survivors that night. The city of thieves was no more and a new evil had been born. He was crying. The screams still sounded. And he was trapped, locked away forever. The voice had promised salvation, the voice had promised that it would all stop. But then again he wasn't really conscience of anything but the screams then so he wasn't really sure. The screams hadn't vanished, but they were only a dull roar demanding vengeance now. The shadow was using him. It had needed a vessel to do it's bidding, empty was preferable but he had been close enough then. Now the spirits of his former village were helping it. Understandable because after all __**It**__ had been born through them. _

_Why die in vain? _

_He was still confused about that because he _hadn't_ died. Not in the technical sense of the word. But he was a spirit all the same. Forced out of his body as the breath was stolen from it, he was as good as dead. It was certain at least he wasn't getting his body back anytime soon. _

_They had first tried to get him to do their bidding, but he was too broken apparently. Too wrapped in his own grief, horror and confusion to be much help to anyone. So instead they had forced him out of his body and invented a new spirit for it. _

_A horrific mix of that shadow and the most vengeful spirits. The new Bakura._

_After __**It **__had broken him out of his shock __**It**__ had tried to get him to join them. He just ran as far as he could._ _They were psycho, even he could see that._ _Between them they wanted to raise Zork Necrophades and cast the world into eternal darkness. That's what '__**It'**__ was apparently. _

_The plan should have been fool proof. There should have been no flaws. If only they had anticipated resistance. _

**xxx**

Domino City was an interesting place to say the least. With the amount of trouble it attracted it was amazing it's still standing.

Of course the trouble could easily be traced back to a hybrid of spirits and darkness posing as one. He had never grown up. He couldn't, he was trapped in time. Nor was he exactly bound to his 'body'. Such ties had been release eons ago. He was free, but haunted.

The irony of a haunted ghost was lost on him.

When **It **had tried to destroy the world he had vowed to try and correct whatever damage it did as he could. Which was all fine in theory, and may sound corny and all that, but the application of that was rather difficult and he felt he deserved at least a bit of credit.

He was bound to the ring however. Not in a take-five-steps-and-be-pulled-back kind of way, but if he concentrated slightly on it his spirit returned to where the ring wherever it was. In some cases it was annoying, but at other times it served him well. The (relatively) young boy that held the ring was intriguing to him. He looked just like he did, only older. With some slight differences. A look-alike as such.

All in all it was slightly shocking that **It** didn't pay any attention to him. It was as if **It** thought he was insignificant and threatless. But that suited him perfectly. The less attention he got from **It** the better.

But that wasn't the worst of it. **It** had been relatively dormant for over three thousand years. It wasn't until after the events of Duellist Kingdom that he was aware that **It** was at large again. True, he could have gone back to the ring anytime he wanted too, but it caused him nothing but pain.

And why draw any more attention to himself then he needed to.

He also didn't really get the game they played as it is. He had left not long after the first duel had started completely bored and confused.

It was Battle City that got his attention however. Finally things were being set in motion after all those years of waiting. Fate was on the move and things were coming to a close. The presence of the Tombkeeper clan was proof enough of that.

Marik was going to take over as Pharaoh and rule the world.

Wait, he'd heard this one before.

He did feet sorry for the boy though. He could understand what it was like to be used by fate.

That didn't stop him being slightly afraid of Marik's darker half though.

The Pharaoh didn't scare as much as he use to. And he found he wasn't angry with him at all. He ought to be, if the other spirits were anything to go by. But neither Pharaoh had anything to do with it. It wasn't the Pharaoh who ordered the massacre but _that _Priest. But that seemed to be irrelevant to the spirits. And now they were helping Marik in his quest for world domination.

Or was it Marik helping them?

He wasn't sure.

**xxx**

He winced as the dagger was plunged into his look-alikes body. Can you imagine your body being used while you can only watch helplessly? He couldn't really describe it. Not even after all this time. Only one thing could come to mind to give it justice.

Picture the Pharaoh. Then picture Marik at his most twisted and possessed. Now picture them together at a table, a merry little fire crackling behind them as they idly chat about harmless thing such as bunnies and flowers.

Doesn't work does it.

Yeah, that's what this is like. Only with a lot more pain, but he just didn't think about that. He didn't want to think about it. So he didn't. But he felt sorry for his look-alike. It only caused pain.

He was also watching when **It** was duelling atop of the blimp. His look-alike was hurt, and they didn't care. Stupid fate. It was all so wrong! How could a game cause such problems? Of all the situations he had been in this top the lot for strangeness.

Going back to the metaphor in which the Pharaoh and Marik are together. Now picture them snogging. Not kissing. Not making out. But full on snogging harmlessly. All wrong. The situation was paralleling it beautifully however.

It wasn't fair.

The Pharaoh at least had the decency to win. And as fate planned, the God cards were in his possession. It was all folding into place.

But it didn't help when **It** was stupid enough to then duel Marik. A duel to the 'death' in the shadows. It was too good to be true, especially when **It** lost. **It** was a shadow after all, so he was wary as **It** disappeared. Yet somewhat hopeful. **It** was gone.

Wasn't it?

**xxx**

The museum is his last hope. If the cards unlock the memory world then whatever the outcome he will be free. With the items gone he will be able to move on. Be reunited with all he lost.

_He just had to get the mental images of wrong couples out of his mind._

_But in the end he felt he deserved it. He had tired to do the right thing._

_It wasn't his fault the name Bakura was tarnished by __**It.**_

_But who can tell how the Gods will take it? Or what became of __**It**__._


End file.
